


Older than yesterday, younger than tomorrow

by Alistra (ALeaseInWonderland)



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Punisher (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALeaseInWonderland/pseuds/Alistra
Summary: Two men, one rooftop, unexpected cargo.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 15
Kudos: 29





	Older than yesterday, younger than tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feathers_and_cigarettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes/gifts).



> Happy birthday, friend. You desired soft Fratt and if this isn't that, then I don't know what is. 
> 
> Many thanks to co-conspirators Sevdrag for insider information, Cruciatus Foreplay for tireless motivation, CloudAtlas for being a cheeky bint (and for beta, I guess) and Harishe for [matching art!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004221)

The drying blood of a dozen shallow nicks pulls uncomfortably at Frank's shirt as he sits down heavily on the roof's edge. In the distance, blue lights are receding, the echoing effect of their sirens's wail growing fainter.

"For a moment there I thought this was the one we wouldn't walk away from," Matt says, leaning heavily on Frank's shoulder and using it for guidance as he, too, sinks onto the ledge. It goes without saying that Frank agrees. After all, it feels as if every movement still makes small pieces of debris fall off his body.

After beating up thugs for the better part of the night, sitting above the sleepless city like this feels especially peaceful. Nevertheless neither of them are young enough anymore to ignore the bruises forming on their skin and it's cold up here, too. Still, it's not just the merciless breeze and the concrete beneath their asses that makes Frank aware of the warm presence that is Matt's thigh alongside his own.

However, there is only so long that two grown men can sit next to each other pretending to catch their breath.

"You need to get back to Max?" Matt says, right as Frank says "Hey, I wanted to give you something."

"Oh?" Matt sounds genuinely surprised and, given how much he likes to know and anticipate everything, Frank finds himself fighting down a smile.

He draws his duffel closer and rummages inside. There's spare ammunition, two separate first aid kits, and a spare skull shirt, as well as a woollen hat, a paperback of collected classic poetry, and finally, sadly wedged underneath another handgun, a plastic box. Frank curses at the dent in the packaging.

"Everything alright?" Matt asks, less than covertly sniffing the air, then stopping short with disbelief. "Did you bring _cake_?"

With a sigh, Frank brings out the box and opens it to survey the damage. It's substantial. Vaguely, he recalls a crunching noise as that last goon had thrown him off balance and he tripped backwards over his bag. Despite everything though, the box's contents still smell delicious, even Frank can tell that much.

"We went up against Yelsew _and_ their fucking dogs and you brought-" Matt shifts slightly as he reads the air again "-vanilla sponge cake with chocolate frosting and- wax? Is there a candle?"

Frank looks down at the box in his hands. The cupcake is spilling over the side of its paper, frosting sticking to the lid and sides of the container, and the saddest sight of all: A lone red-and-white-striped candle that is broken in the middle, the top hanging on only by the wick. Wiping the worst blood and grime off his fingers and onto his pantleg first, Frank tries to right the candle, but it falls over again right away, so lighting it is out of the question.

"Happy birthday, Red," Frank says. He lays the back of his forearm over Matt's thigh as he holds out the ruined cake, making sure it's easy to find.

Matt, possibly for the first time in his life, appears to be at a loss for words. His hands cup the plastic box with all the nervous hesitance one might use on an injured bird or possibly a live grenade.

"You know it's my birthday?" he asks after a beat of silence, all those smart deductive lawyer skills really paying off.

"S'pose I do," Frank replies, and this time he doesn't fight to keep the grin out of his voice.

Matt stews on that for another minute, just holding on to the cake with an air of mild alarm. "But how did you know I love chocolate frosting?" he finally asks, and Frank tries not to outright laugh at how suspicious he seems to be of a small baked treat.

"Course you do, only psychos dislike chocolate frosting," Frank says, leaving no room for argument.

"We almost died back there and all the while you were carrying a secret birthday cake for me?" Matt says after another dreadfully long pause.

"Jesus Christ, Red, if I'd known you'd make such a fuss about it, I wouldn't have bothered," Frank says, starting to feel uncomfortable with the intense scrutiny of Matt's attention. "Give me back that cake, I'll eat it myself."

"No, it's my birthday and it was a gift. I'm keeping it now," Matt says, pulling off a glove with his teeth. Quickly he tucks it into his belt for safekeeping, and pointedly scoops a messy glob of frosting and cake crumbs out of the box, eating it right off his fingers.  
Something forbidden stirs low in Frank's gut as he watches the sticky-sweet mix disappear, Matt's tongue thoroughly cleaning his fingers with definite appreciation.

"That may be the best birthday cake I ever had," Matt says, and something about his demeanor has changed, even if Frank can't quite place what. It's a little unsettling to feel that intense not-stare on him; the horned mask catching the light just so, lending its eyes a hypnotic glow. It's the small speck of chocolate at the corner of Matt's mouth Frank can't look away from, though.

"Would you like a taste?" Matt asks in a low voice, as if he can read Frank's mind. Even if he didn't before, Frank himself can feel the tips of his ears grow hot like a teenager's, his pulse picking up with the underlying promise. He nods mutely, then nervously clears his throat and croaks an affirmative.

Matt holds out the smushed cake box but, just before Frank can take it, he fumbles the handover. As if in slow-motion, the container drops away from them to disappear into the darkness below, taking a surprising amount of time before landing with a muted _splat_.

"Guess that means no cake for me..." Frank begins to say, but he's cut off as he turns back, Matt's warm hand cupping his cold jaw the only warning he gets before soft lips touch against his own.

If he's being honest, Frank has imagined kissing Matt before. If he's being more honest, he's imagined it an awful lot. Memories of the two of them fighting have morphed into just as passionate exchanges of kisses and fevered touches in the privacy of his mind. Maybe, in the most hidden moments of a particularly lonely night or another, he's imagined more than just kisses.

None of these dreams have prepared him for the gentleness that is the reality of Matt's kiss. In fact Frank is so overwhelmed by both the fact itself and the surprising hesitance of it that Matt's already pulling back by the time he gets his shit together.  
  
"I-"  
  
Matt doesn’t get any further before Frank catches up with him. He kisses back hard, momentum tipping them back from the deadly drop at their feet but off the ledge they've been sitting on, tumbling in an inelegant heap onto the gravelly rooftop.

There's a knee irritating a fresh bruise and an inconvenient elbow to the gut and thank god none of the bad guys whose asses they whooped earlier can see the tragically clumsy picture these two heroes are making now.

Involuntarily, Frank starts laughing. The absurdity of the situation mixes with the all-encompassing elation of the confirmation that this insane torch he's been carrying for such a long time now - it's not that insane after all.

"What the fuck?" Matt says, undeniable amusement in his voice, but Frank has a lapful of red devil and he's not letting go anytime soon.

"Shut up and gimme some more of that cake," Frank smirks, stealing a still lightly chocolate-flavoured kiss.

"Happy birthday to me," Matt says and happily obliges.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I mention Harishe created [matching art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004221)?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Older than yesterday, younger than tomorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004221) by [Harishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harishe/pseuds/Harishe)




End file.
